


Honeytraps for Bees With Teeth

by roominthecastle



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-08-03 12:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16326542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roominthecastle/pseuds/roominthecastle
Summary: Eleanor is ready to pull a classic Shellstrop move, Chidi is worried, and Michael has no idea what's about to hit him.





	1. Chapter 1

"This is nuts."

"Yeah, well, do you have a better plan, professor?"

"Yes. Let's go back and pick a better plan."

"You couldn't even pick a seat until Janet removed all but two and I took one of them. You picking anything would take forever."

"We are dead. All we have is forever."

"A forever of pain and misery when they drag us back here. No, thanks." 

Chidi anxiously careened around Eleanor to halt their - her - brisk homeward march from the train station. They should have just stayed at Mindy's. He wanted to but something akin to a murder wish propelled his fake soul mate straight back to the lion's den. It wasn't the first time this happened. According to Mindy's records, a murder wish had, in fact, factored into several of Eleanor's previous exit strategies. It clearly didn't yield much but their - her - target was likely more alert and more likely to react vindictively if he suspected that another Looney Tunes plot was brewing.

She didn't seem to mind.

"Eleanor, please, just think about this."

"That would ruin it."

Relief flashed across Chidi's face. "Yes! That's the idea."

"Look, dude, we clearly don't know each other all that well in this round, so here's a fun fact about me: if banging the devil unlocks the pearlies upstairs, I am game."

This mildly horrified him on multiple levels. "No conceivable version of heaven would allow for, much less require, such a thing."

"Okay, first off, it was a joke to illustrate a relevant point, which you totally missed by the way. Second, I don't know about you but I'd like to avoid spending the rest of eternity being mindforked into oblivion by Evil Mr. Rogers and his neighborhood fiends." 

"But having actual sex with him is somehow acceptable."

"Now you're getting it."

"No. No. No, I am not. There must be some other option."

"Michael is the big fish and once he's hooked, I can negotiate a deal that won't leave us tormented till the end of forking time. Easy and it will work. You catch more fish with honey, right?" 

"Flies."

"Whatever," she said. "I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse."

Chidi was feeling dizzy now. "I would rather just be tortured." Maybe he was being tortured already. Or still. Maybe the realization that this was the Bad Place was merely a built-in false bottom and they had fallen through into the next phase that fed on doubt, fear, and indecision: his very own personal hell.

She gave his arm a quick, gentle squeeze. "I know, buddy, but like I said, I would rather not." With that, she sidestepped him and continued on her way. 

Neither doubt nor indecision seemed to affect her, though. He sighed and, after a short moment of hesitation, he turned to catch up. "How do you even know he would go for it?"

"Well, duh," she replied, gesturing at herself again. It was not an argument he could counter, so he didn't even try. "Plus he is a demon, dummy,---"

"Which should definitely not go in any pro column unless we are debating exorcism."

"Desperate times," she shot back but seemed to regret the somewhat biting tone immediately. "Besides," she shrugged, "I think he's kinda into me."

"Is he now?" This earned him a glare but he didn't back down. "You've been antagonizing him since who knows when. You even tried to stab him once. That is never an aphrodisiac."

"Speak for yourself. Where I come from, anger is practically foreplay."

Hearing that, Chidi stopped in his track. "And where he comes from is literal hell because he is a demon hard-wired to despise us."

She stopped, too, and looked back. "Well, maybe this one's 'wiring' is messed up."

"Or maybe he was just pretending to sell this illusion," Chidi said, his voice rising with each syllable, but then his shoulders sagged and he grew quieter. "I'm just... What if... What if he hurts you?"

"You mean on top of the standard torture package he's been pushing on us?"

"Yes. There are... other ways... to-to hurt people, and just because we can't remember it, it doesn't mean he hasn't... done that or-or that he wouldn't..."

A knowing smile tugged at the corners of Eleanor's mouth. "He hasn't. He won't."

Chidi was still struggling to grasp where her puzzling confidence in this deeply unsettling plan was coming from. "Why are you so sure?"

"Call it dirtbag intuition." 

He shook his head.

"We tried to kill him yet here we are with all limbs still attached and brains still capable of... braining properly." 

He gave her a look that signaled doubt about that "properly".

"Whatever, man, my point still stands. We are still here as if nothing happened."

"You mean, 'with no memory of what actually happened'."

"All the more reason to make some new ones, right?"

He didn't appreciate the joke. "You should be scared of him. I know I am. We should find the others and warn them, too."

"We will, just not yet. Who knows how they might react. For now, it's safer for all of us if they remain oblivious and, you know... docile."

"Now you sound like one of 'them'," he said and regretted it at once. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't feel good about this. At all."

"Michael built this elaborate prison, which means that he also has keys to the exit." 

"So what's the goal here? Seduce AND pickpocket?"

"It's a time-honored Shellstrop tradition."

He let out a defeated sigh and it somehow pushed her to try for a less dismissive explanation.

"Okay, look. I'm not sure what happened in previous versions but in this one, I've spent more time with him than any of you and most of it did not feel like torture. It's like ... It felt like he actually wanted to spend time with me, too. We had..." she trailed off, lips pressed back into a firm line, but Chidi could fill in the blanks. She felt betrayed, used, and wanted to get even.

"He put on a show for all of us, Eleanor, and the truth is, we don't know him at all. We shouldn't rush into this." 

She leaned away from him. "There is no 'we' here, dude. This is between him and me. Your ethics won't be compromised, don't worry."

Chidi was about to protest the hurtful assumption that his sole concern here was ethics, but Eleanor cut him off: "Speak of the devil." 

He followed her gaze and it was indeed Michael who appeared at the other end of the stony path that cut across the lush yard. He was conversing with one of the fake residents they knew as Vicky. As if sensing his distant spectators, Michael looked up. Chidi grew still with a fresh wave of tension and Eleanor gave a small, casual wave.

Vicky didn't seem to be finished with their conversation but Michael parted from her anyway, briskly making his way towards the humans. The smile plastered across his face was probably the exact same one he'd always worn for their benefit, but now it looked distinctly chilling. So did his unblinking gaze that was locked on Eleanor. Maybe she was right and there existed some form of connection here but, as far as Chidi was concerned, it was deeply worrisome and should never have been encouraged.

It was clear that Eleanor didn't share this view. "Hey there, Michael," she greeted him with the exact same smile the demon was wearing. "What have you been up to?"

He let out a deep chuckle, his eyes still fixed on her. Maybe he was anticipating another knifing event. "Oh, you know... making the usual rounds, maintaining the optimal levels of blissful happiness, tending to every whim, wish, and desire." His attention finally shifted between Eleanor and her silently suffering companion. "Speaking of, can I be of any assistance here?"

For a moment Chidi wasn't sure if the high-pitched shriek was only audible in the privacy of his own mind, but when nobody else reacted, he concluded that it was just the usual mute scream for help that would forever go unanswered. Eleanor hooked her arm into his - most likely to keep him from bending over with pain - and then went straight in for the opportunity. "Actually, Chidi here will be busy helping our neighbor prepare things for the art show tonight, so I have the entire afternoon for myself." It was the first time Chidi heard about this. He nodded anyway as Eleanor went on: "Would you like to come over? We could continue your education in all things human?"

Evil or not, suspicious or otherwise, Michael seemed genuinely excited by the offer. Even his smile felt less serrated but Chidi could not quite put a finger on the how or the why. In fact, he did not want to put a finger on anything that was currently going on around him.

"I mean, if you don't have other plans and you're still interested in that sort of thing," Eleanor added, acting jarringly considerate. Chidi was looking closely for any sign of suspicion on Michael's part. 

The demon didn't seem to be fazed at all. In fact, he was delighted. "I don't and yes, I am, very much."

"It's a date, then."

This both intrigued and confused him. "A 'date'?"

"That's just what we humans say when we agree to meet up to have some fun," Eleanor explained.

Michael nodded. "A date it is."

At that moment certain things were irrevocably set in motion and Chidi was almost relieved that he got handed a ready-made excuse to steer clear of what was undoubtedly shaping up to be a colossal disaster.


	2. Chapter 2

After several failed attempts at being productive, Michael found himself pacing his office. He was supposed to finish his latest report on the "second" round of his unorthodox experiment, but his mind insisted on replaying his earlier encounter with Eleanor on a torturous loop. He'd lost track of her that morning thanks to an incident involving giant floating soap bubbles, and when he found her again, she was in an odd mood. 

They were barely a month into this version but he knew something was off already. It was off in a way it hadn't been before and he couldn't even pinpoint with any certainty what "it" was. Seeing Chidi twisting himself up inside with renewed vigor was very promising, but Eleanor... She gave him pause. Perhaps he should have given in to the urge to reboot them right away. He was about to but then she offered up her afternoon and it stayed his hand. She always cut his time short, usually with a smug smile or, more recently, with a kitchen knife. So why offer him more now if she was onto him again? 

To reboot or not to reboot - there were risks either way but he wasn't quite ready to let go of this version yet.   
Maybe she wasn't, either.

A "date". He huffed to himself.

He had no idea what to do with that beyond saying yes to it at once. In hindsight, his reaction was... well, a reaction and a poor one at that. He was glad Vicky was not around to witness it because she might have seen it for what it was: a lapse of judgment. But his overeager underling was never too far away. She'd been circling him with more and more "suggestions" and "concerns" lately, so he had to walk this tightrope with extra caution.

He stopped pacing and collapsed into one of the chairs that faced his desk. He watched the grains in the hourglass as they trickled through the narrow neck in a steady but finite flow. Measuring time was normal practice in the afterlife, but feeling it was a new experience. And he felt every forking minute these days. His shoulder twitched and he shifted in his seat. Eleanor began to make him feel other things, too.

Utter confusion was chief among them.

He stood up again and stepped to the window. He squinted and after a languid motion of his hand, wisps of clouds swam in to filter the offending sunlight. It was a small relief, that sense of control. The only way to get some of that back with Eleanor was to show up at her place and be as prepared as possible. Preparation meant research and research meant: "Janet," he said somewhat absentmindedly.

The ever-cheerful neighborhood mainframe materialized behind him at once. "Hi."

Startled out of his thoughts, he spun around. "Oh. Yes. Hello." He hesitated for a moment, deciding how to broach the topic. "Janet..."

"It is me," she confirmed.

He nodded. "I am embarking on this little..." he trailed off in search of a description that wasn't technically a lie, "... well, let's call it an exciting new side-project."

"Excellent," she interjected with a bright smile that infected him for a second.

"Yes, thank you. It is a bit... tricky, though, and I need some help with the preparations."

"No problem!" Janet said enthusiastically and Michael found himself smiling again. He knew she would have reacted in the exact same manner if he'd asked her to jump off the highest cliff in the neighborhood. Still, her unwavering support was a radical and welcome change after eons spent mocked by his own kind, and he'd grown more attached to it than he would ever care to admit.

"I have... something called a 'date' this afternoon?" He did not intend to make it sound like a question but it still came out that way.

"Yes, you do," Janet confirmed enthusiastically. "Congratulations!" 

"Thank you. It's just that I'm still not sure... I'm not sure what that means."

"Would you like me to provide some definitions?"

This eased his discomfort and he squared his shoulders. "Yes, please."

"A date is a social appointment planned in advance."

He frowned. "I need something that's a bit more... well, you know, more." 

She knew and was ready with the answer: "A date is a get-together between two people, consisting of social activities, often with the aim of each assessing the other's suitability as a prospective partner in an intimate relationship or marriage."

He blinked. "Next one, please."

"A date is an audition for sex."

"Okay." He cleared his throat. "Maybe we should set aside the dictionary for now." Janet nodded. "'Social activities'," he repeated, zeroing in on the part that sounded closest to how Eleanor explained it. "That's the, um, 'fun' part, right?"

"Correct."

"Great. Let's take a look at those."

While Janet was going over a detailed list of social activity options to shed a more practical light on the problem at hand, it gradually dawned on Michael that he'd been on several of these "dates" with Eleanor already. In the original version, she'd taken him out for frozen yogurt, to sing karaoke and play arcade games - all "classics" according to Janet's list. In fact, a lot of their time spent together in other versions - including this latest one - could also be characterized as "dating activity". It always filled him with strangely conflicting sensations but up until now, it hadn't occurred to him to examine this experience outside the boundaries of his torture setup. He enjoyed her company which provided opportunities to learn and push her buttons. And he figured she's been playing along because it was a way to keep her cover. It was an implied contract of sorts. She'd never invited him to her home before, though. She'd never used the word "date", either, and he'd never felt a tightness in his stomach at the prospect of meeting her the way he was starting to.

It was all new, an irregularity, and it only compounded his confusion about their current situation. Maybe that was her goal. Or...

Janet had finished dispensing the requested information and was now on standby, staring at him with a customary small smile. "Is everything okay, Michael?" He stared back, suddenly remembering her curious glitch during the first attempt. It occurred as a result of her accidental bonding with Jason. It was a product of social activity, too, and it did end in a marriage as one of those definitions indicated.

Janet interpreted his silence as persisting confusion and her governing protocol resumed. "I could gather the most popular accessories humans use during these activities. Would that help?" she asked with a look that suggested she already knew the answer to that question as well.

Michael perked up like a cat that just heard a tuna can open. "Yes, I'd like that."

Various items began popping into existence but the desktop quickly proved insufficient to hold them all. Half of the room had been filled by the time Janet finished processing his request, and Michael just stood there for a very long moment, taking it all in. Some of the objects were more or less familiar to him from previous work environments, while others were brand new and borderline irresistible. "Ah, I've always wanted to try this one," he said, reaching for a bright orange box but a familiar voice made him freeze.

"What's all this?" asked Vicky from the doorway.

"Work," Michael answered curtly, pulling his hand back and into his pocket.

Vicky reached down to lift a chain with hooks and shackles attached. "Feeling nostalgic?"

Michael ignored the jab. "Aren't you supposed to keep an eye on Chidi?"

"Relax. He's with Tahani," she said, tossing the chain back on the pile. "I don't know who saddled him with ranking the art pieces that'll go on display, but you can taste the pain in that room." 

"So why are you here?"

"Oh, right," Vicky said, remembering. "Jason's at the bottom of the lake."

Michael's head snapped up. "What?!" Then, "How?"

"He fell in and started swimming in the wrong direction?" She shrugged. "It's Jason."

Michael turned to look at Janet but she was no longer there, so he glared at Vicky. 

She looked more annoyed than intimidated. "What do you want us to do?"

He let out a quiet growl, then marched out of the office without a word. What better way to sell a (fake) paradise than waterboarding a (fake) Buddhist monk before lunchtime?


	3. Chapter 3

After they parted from Michael in the garden, Chidi made one last long-winded attempt to convince her just how breathtakingly forked up this plan was. The judgmental tone and his unwillingness to appreciate the solution in context failed to convince her but it did end up providing a brand new reason for action: it had to be done out of spite now, too.

She shrugged. "How many times do we have to have the exact same conversation before you accept that this is happening, dude?"

He grew quiet, then: "I just needed this last one," he said with a sad smile. "And now if you'll excuse me, I am going to go and play my part in this... unhinged... _danse macabre_."

She did not quite catch every word but this was the moment she started to feel genuinely kind of bad. "Chidi--"

"No, no, it's fine, really," he interrupted with a contorted grin. "You're the one doing me a favor here, trust me." With that, he turned away and made a beeline for Tahani's not at all humble abode where the preparations for that night's art show were already in full swing. Her gaze followed him until he disappeared from view. She just stood there for a moment, squinting into the bright sunlight, but as she raised a hand to shield her eyes, clouds drifted in almost as if on command. She felt a faint sense of inexplicable relief. _This is gonna work out_ , a small voice inside assured her, and she turned to head home with a smile on her face.

_Trust me._ Right. Why didn't he trust her? She knew what she was doing. The wrench had already been thrown into those delicate gears that powered this forked up place and its forking swear filter. _Date._ One ambiguous little word. If she was right about her supernatural mark, he was already fretting, trying to decipher it, thinking there was one correct response instead of multiple possible interpretations, each revealing something about the interpreter. Those ethics classes were paying off, it seemed. At the very least she was able to weaponize some of the methodologies and maybe push their puppeteer to show some of his cards. Or it was all going to blow up in her face in a spectacular manner, just as Chidi predicted.

_But Chidi doesn't know everything_ , the voice chimed in.

She rolled her shoulders, then glanced at the clock on the table. It was lunchtime but the professor was still MIA and likely to remain so for the rest of the day - maybe even the rest of their forever. Any soulmate worth their salt would pack their beloved's favorite meal, deliver it as a peace offering, and things would be back to normal right away, she imagined. But they weren't soulmates. They were friends, though, or something like it, and the way they'd left things was eating at her now. It was lunchtime, after all.

Michael's little torture chamber was still working just fine, it seemed, and the realization was nothing short of infuriating. She grabbed a pillow and buried her face in it, trying to decide whether to just scream or try suffocating with the hope of waking up in a less complicated layer of hell. Then a third option elbowed its way to the front.

"Janet," she called out, her words still muffled.

Janet materialized with a soft, happy bing. "Hi there."

She got the name right, which was already promising, so Eleanor pulled the pillow from her face. "What's Chidi's favorite meal and can I have one to go?"

She figured she still had time for one short peacekeeping side mission. But as she stepped outside, armed with a carefully packed basket, her eyes caught a figure sprinting away from the mansion. She couldn't tell who it was but she had never seen anybody run like that in this fake paradise. Well, not since the morning of utter chaos after her first night here. There wasn't supposed to be any urgency in a peaceful afterlife, so something must have happened again. Was Michael trying to wiggle out of their afternoon "date" by fabricating some catastrophe? That would be an interesting development. She looked at the mansion, then back towards the lake where the mysterious figure had disappeared, and she decided to add a side mission to the side mission.

She didn't have to walk for long before familiar voices began drifting towards her. After a few more steps, a small group came into view: Vicky, Luang, and Michael were standing by the shore. Even though he had his back to her, she could tell Michael was anything but happy.

"What's wrong with it?" Vicky asked.

"Maybe it's glitching," Luang observed.

"You think?" Michael snapped at his underling. "You were supposed to shadow that idiot at all times. It's _literally_ the easiest job there is."

"It was the Great Fire of London."

"What?"

"They have this huge painting of this huge fire in there," Luang said, gesturing towards the mansion. "I got distracted."

"And we have Jason in there," Michael pointed angrily at the lake, "'distracted' by not being able to breathe."

The conversation halted there as nobody dared or was able to contribute anything further.

Michael turned away, yanked off his glasses, and inhaled sharply through his nose. Eleanor had never seen him so riled up before and the possibility of being partially responsible sent a pleasant chill coursing through her body.

"Janet!" he barked. When nothing happened, everybody looked around, Eleanor included.

"Where the heck is she? Janet!"

"Maybe she's glitching, too," Vicky said but Michael seemed distracted, so she stepped closer to get his attention. "If you have to rebo--"

"I'll take care of this," Michael said as his attention snapped back to her. "Get back to the mansion, both of you, _now_. If Tahani starts asking for Jason, just make up some excuse. Do you think you can handle that?"

Vicky rolled her eyes, then turned on her heels and left with Luang in tow.

Eleanor watched Michael wait until his underlings disappeared. As soon as they did, he quickly pulled off his jacket and bow tie, then yanked off his shoes and socks. He was already wading into the lake when Eleanor decided to leave her hiding place to see what he was up to.

She left her basket by the small, neat pile of his shed belongings, then edged closer. He was feeling around in the knee-deep shallow end when her reflection swam into view from behind and caught his attention. "Lose something?" He turned around but when he did, the water around him did not move the way water was supposed to. It was transparent but thicker. And when her gaze met his, it hit her just how much those round glasses - which he'd left behind on top of his expertly folded jacket - tamed his sharp features. She quickly decided to re-focus on what he was standing in. "What's that?"

He hesitated only for a few seconds before raising his arm. A clear but gooey substance was dripping slowly from his upturned palm and trickled down his bare forearm. "Corn syrup," he answered.

She leaned in, taking a closer look, then her gaze moved past him at the lake. "It's all turned to... _that_?"

He licked some syrup off his hand, then smacked his lips.

"Any good at least?"

"Yes. Would you...?" he asked, nodding at her arm. She reached out and grabbed his hand. It wasn't the one he licked and her grip kept slipping but eventually, she helped him back ashore.

"What were you looking for in there?"

He shook some of the slimy liquid off his arms. "The key."

That certainly raised more questions than it answered. "The key to what?"

He started dabbing at his hands with a handkerchief. The licking phase was over, it seemed. "The lake needs to be drained but I cannot do that without turning the waste line valve and I cannot access that without--"

" _The key_ ," they stated in unison.

He tired his best to sound pleasant but his hand-cleaning motions got more anxious by each word uttered and he refused to look her in the eye. "So..." she glanced behind him at the rocks jutting out of the water-turned-syrup, "you hid this magic lake drain key under a rock? Literally? How... human of you."

He didn't seem to find it as amusing as she did. He grabbed his glasses and put them back on. "Well, technically, it was Janet," he corrected her.

"So why don't you just ask her where it is?"

He finally looked at her again, sighed, then gestured vaguely at the lake. She looked but wasn't sure what she was looking for. Then she saw it - it being two human-shaped blurs at the bottom of the syrup lake. They looked like those ambered creatures in museum display cases. "Is that...?"

"Janet, yes," he confirmed. "With Jason."

"Okay. Jason? No need to explain. But how is Janet stuck?"

Michael shook some more goo out from his pants leg. "I don't know."

"Janet?" she said but nothing happened. "Janet!" she yelled and waited. "Well, that doesn't work," she informed him, shrugging.

"Yes, thank you."

There was a lot of passive-aggressive sarcasm packed into those three short words and she couldn't help but feel somewhat impressed. "Can't you just... I don't know, snap your finger and make things go back to how they were before?"

There was a strange glint in his eyes but it was quickly blinked away. "No, I can't," he answered. "There are certain... entanglements that can't be, uh... untangled," he tried to explain, "when a human is involved."

"Got it," she quipped. She had no idea what he was trying to say but he no longer seemed tense or irritated and she found herself staring at him.

His hand went to where his bow tie usually was but his fingers found only his unbuttoned shirt collar. "What?"

She reached out and wiped a dark smudge off his cheek with her index finger. "If the water is syrup, then this must be---" she licked her finger and winced at the taste.

"Mud?" he added.

She spat it out. "Fork. I thought it was chocolate."

Incredulous, he shook his head. "Why would it be chocolate?"

"I don't know, man. Why is there forking corn syrup in the lake?!" He snorted. "I thought there was, like, a sweet theme going here, okay?" He covered his mouth, clearly trying to stifle his amusement. She raised her muddy finger at him but she was smiling too. "Don't you dare laugh."

"I'm sorry," he said with the beginning of laughter in his voice.

She spat again, then wiped her lips. "No, you're not."

Suddenly, every emotion drained from his face. "No, I am not," he confirmed with an empty, unblinking coldness that gave her a sharp pause, but then a grin tugged at his lips again and, like a wave, something akin to humanity washed back into his features. He was toying with her.

"So are we still on for this afternoon?" He raised his eyebrows. "Our date, remember?"

"Oh, right, yes. Of course," he said and she could see a hint of nervousness creeping back into his demeanor. It felt reassuring, like a tiny victory. "I have to take care of this first, but I will be there."

"Do you want some help?" She had no idea where that came from but since the words were already out, she decided to roll with it.

He blinked. _Good_ , she thought. At least the surprise was mutual. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

She didn't know what exactly he meant until he indicated the picnic basket behind her with a nod of his head. "Oh, shirt, I forgot." She grabbed the basket, then turned back to him. "I gotta deliver this but I can be back in a few minutes." Apparently, she was still rolling with this, still not knowing why.

He was considering her offer. "Well, if Chidi doesn't mind..."

"Not at all," she lied through her teeth and turned to leave only to turn right back. "Okay, how do you know this is for him?"

A smug glow settled around him at once. "Slow-roasted perch in a peanut sauce?" he asked, pointing at her cargo. She nodded. "His favorite. Easy."

"How...?"

"I know my residents well," he said. "Also, I can see inside your basket."

She snorted. "Is that an euphemism?" He didn't understand and she cleared her throat. "Never mind. So, want me to circle back and lend a hand?"

"That would be great." He looked at the lake and a smile curved his lips. "There are so many amazing rocks to examine."

"Wonderful. I can't wait," she lied again and his smile-turned-shirt-eating grin told her that he already knew that much.

 


	4. Chapter 4

"I gotta deliver this but I can be back in a few minutes."

She did not lie about that. It was 6 minutes, 28 seconds, to be exact. It felt both way longer and much shorter than that, but that was just how time behaved when she was around. Jeremy Bearimy had nothing on Eleanor Shellstrop as far as Michael was concerned.

He was standing barefeet on the small boat dock, watching her walking towards him. He already had the key, she no longer had the basket, and he briefly wondered how that hand-off went. The mansion was too far away and too noisy for him to see or hear anything clearly. He could still count, though, and he did: 388 seconds. She was quick, that was for sure - _all according to plan for once_ -, and it filled him with a peculiar satisfaction. It felt... fuller somehow, spilling over the edges of what he usually felt when a task was accomplished. His grip tightened around the key as a voice echoed in his mind: _You sure are very hands-on these days._

It was one of the several remarks Vicky had made earlier that morning. That one did love needling others even when all she had was words.

Hands-on. Well, that was the idea and he'd told her as much. It was the compromise they'd hammered out: slow-burn soulmates. The others insisted on the original format. He insisted that it was not gonna hold unless the couples were going to be prevented from forging a genuine connection. Ensuring that was a balancing act requiring careful micromanagement, and most of them were still incapable of grasping that. Making Eleanor's problem Chidi's again would have created a strong sense of shared doom. Humans bonded much faster under such circumstances as Michael had come to learn the hard way. He'd been explaining that along with the art of subtle interference - _it is art, Vicky, not_ exact _science_ \- , when he noticed Eleanor at the other end of the garden path.

Seeing her then had made him ditch his underling without a second thought, and seeing her now was suddenly making him re-consider ditching this reboot altogether.

He averted his gaze, then turned to look at the lake instead. He still had no idea what was causing the puzzling glitch or how much Eleanor had already figured out. Feeling bold, he'd dangled Jason's name but with no reaction from her. She'd either already discovered him but was too distracted to recognize the bait, or maybe she just hadn't bothered to learn his name. Or she was up to something and let it slide for some other reason. Michael drew in a long breath, then exhaled sharply as his eyes found the small purple blur of Janet moored beneath the syrupy surface not far from shore. He didn't know why she'd gotten stuck down there, either, and his office was still crammed with accessories of a human ritual he neither understood nor was prepared to engage in. Confusion was coiling in his mind and his fingers twitched.

One snap and it could all vanish. All of it.

Two empty boats lolled gently by the dock they were tethered to. Despite the glitch that spot remained a patch of engineered serenity, perfectly fake, yet for some reason he could not take his eyes off those boats. Time slipped from his eternal grasp again but the present came crashing back at the lightest touch of fingertips.

"You okay, bud?"

His eyes snapped at her. "Yeah." The lie came reflexively but it scraped this throat. "You were quick."

"A promise is a promise, right?"

A few lousy weeks in and she already sounded like her professor. "Right." He felt a snarl coming and quickly forced a smile in its place. "How's Chidi?"

"Great," she lied with an ease he almost envied, then her eyes found the object that he'd forgotten he was still holding. "What are you doing with that rusty back scratcher?"

He glanced at it, too, trying to see it from her limited human perspective. It indeed looked like a rusty back scratcher, which meant that he could easily pretend it was just that, vanish it, then make her grope at cold wet rocks for hours as per the original plan. Suddenly, he no longer felt like doing that. "Wishing for a sweet release," he joked.

She flashed a grin. "Who doesn't?"

"Well..." He raised his hand, bringing the object resembling a back scratcher to her eye level. "Luckily, we have the key."

Her face lit up. "You found it?" He nodded and allowed himself a small grin. Her attention shifted to the trapped pair. He kept his on her, memorizing every tiny twitch and flicker of emotion. "Are they in pain?"

When he didn't immediately answer, she looked back at him and her worry seemed disturbingly genuine.

"Of course not," he assured her, utilizing his most soothing Good Place Architect tone. "We will fix this, Eleanor." It was another lie but a practiced one. Janet's erratic behavior worried him and whatever was keeping her down there was likely just the beginning.

"We?"

"If you still wanna land a hand?"

"Sure. What do you want me to do?"

He felt a rush of excitement. "Jump."

She looked at the lake, then back at him. "Uh, you mean..."

"In the lake, yes," he confirmed. "It's perfectly safe. There's a socket at the bottom straight below us, you can't miss it." He handed her the key. "Just slide this in, then turn it clockwise until it goes no further."

She stared at him in mild confusion, clearly expecting some more instruction or a reveal that he was just joking, but he stared back silently and expectantly. "Oh, okay. That's it?"

"That's it."

"Okay, well, um..." She threw another tentative look at the lake. "... yeah, so do I get some diving gear or...?"

"You don't need it." She didn't look convinced and he decided to let her in on an open secret the freshly departed struggled to grasp and every torturer was eager to exploit. "You're dead, Eleanor. You don't need things like air anymore."

"But I still... breathe?"

Indeed. Asphyxiation was a popular torture method due to its swift and crude effectiveness. Every department put its own unique spin on it but in the end, humans marinated in the same thick stew of pain and terror simply because their mind still believed that sucking in oxygen was a necessity not just a

"Force of habit," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "I designed this place with that in mind, to ease your transition, but a few hundred years and you'll be over all that tedious business."

"Like breathing?"

"Or eating or sleeping or trying to procreate."

"Oookay," she said. He could tell she was still skeptical and there was something distinctly calculating in the way she was looking at him. But the strange moment passed quickly. Her gaze dropped and she studied the lake with a bit of newfound determination. "So I jump in and just... don't breathe?"

"Well, you can keep doing it but then your lungs will fill with syrup and that might not be comfortable."

"Right." She stepped to the edge of the dock and looked down, hesitating. He watched her grow very still for a long moment, then heard her exhale sharply and gasp for the illusion her primitive mind still mistook for air. Humans - even in death they are such willing prisoners of their basest of urges.

Amused, he drew closer. "Were you trying to hold your breath?"

She glanced up sheepishly. "I thought I'd give it a try before, you know... taking a plunge for real," she admitted, then gave him a quick once-over. "Bodies of water are not exactly the kind of bodies I'm into."

"Yeah, I prefer the dry and warm myself, too," he said and found himself staring at the boats again. He tore his gaze away. "I usually have Janet to help but--"

"I know, dude, it's okay." She gave him back the key and undid the button on her cardigan. "You will thank me later," she added, already stripping.

"I will?"

She toed off her shoes and unzipped her jeans. "Oh yes."

"Michael!"

He swiveled toward the source of the familiar voice and his lips twisted into a small, mute snarl when he saw Vicky marching towards him - them.

"Ready when you are," Eleanor said.

He turned back and found her wearing nothing but a smile. Panic snapped every muscle in his human suit to tautness. The last thing he needed was being seen with her like... _that_. "I really appreciate you doing this," he said, handing the key back to her.

Eleanor's smile widened. "Oh I bet you d--" He pushed her in.

The splash was more of a slurp and, thankfully, she sunk at once. The syrup swallowed her - and any profanity that might have erupted from her - completely, and with one swift kick the evidence of her bareness was cleared away as well, right before Vicky reached the dock.

She did not look pleased. "Chidi's asking for you."

_Good_ , Michael thought, _she didn't_ saw _._ "Why?"

"He has some 'concerns'," she said, vehemently applying air quotes.

"He's made of concerns, Vicky." He leaned down to pull the pocket square from his suit jacket. "You knew that when you insisted I assign you to him again, so why can't you handle this yourself?" He wiped his hand. "Or should we consult with Angélique on how to hold Chidi's attention for one afternoon?"

She crossed her arms and shot him an accusing look. "I think he knows."

"Knows what?"

She shifted her weight and leaned forward, accusation seeping from every move. "You know what."

He furrowed his brows. "This conversation is so vague, I'm not even sure we're having it." Vicky rolled her eyes and he raised his hands in feigned surrender. "Okay, okay, look. Chidi's a mess of stress driving Tahani up the wall as we speak, right?"

"Right," she admitted grudgingly.

He gestured at the lake behind him. "Jason's been drowning for like an hour and Eleanor just _volunteered_ to do the same." He let out a dismissive snort. "What they may think they know doesn't matter. They are miserable, that's the point."

Vicky seemed to be won over. "So what's the plan?"

"The plan is we stick to the plan we agreed on." She nodded. "Eleanor stays with me and you stay with Chidi."

"What about Janet?"

"Already found her. It was a small settings issue. She'll be back online soon."

"And what if Chidi keeps asking about you...?"

"Just do that vague-ing thing like 'you know where he is' and 'you know why', and all that. His brain will do the rest."

A wicked grin curved her lips at the prospect. "Oh I love that."

"Well, go get him, then."

But she was still not completely out of questions. "What about Eleanor?"

Michael looked at the spot by the dock where the syrup had sucked her in and he smiled. "I think I'll let her marinate in her failure to be of any use," he said, looking back at his underling.

"Bet she feels right at home down at rock bottom," Vicky said and laughed.

Anger bubbled up in Michael at her words - a searing jolt of unreasonable anger followed by an icy wave of confusion. He quickly forced a laugh but an unsettling idea took hold of him anyway: What if there was something in the mystery syrup that was affecting everyone that had come in contact with it?


End file.
